


Her Long Halloween

by ScoracleTrash



Series: Scoracle: Year One [2]
Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25392700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScoracleTrash/pseuds/ScoracleTrash
Summary: The sequel to Pet Bat. Told as a series of vignettes taking place on holidays in the first year following the events of Arkham Knight as retold in the original fic. Also basically my reboot/retconning of the Arkhamverse.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Barbara Gordon
Series: Scoracle: Year One [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839079
Comments: 29
Kudos: 59





	1. All Soul’s Day

The parts of her body Barbara Gordon could feel were aching when she finally lay down to sleep in the early morning on November 1st. All across the city, Gotham was doing the dance it always did when things began to return to normal.

Citizens were returning to their homes, crews were cleaning up the streets, cops were locking up henchmen. It was like any other major supercriminal attack in the long history of them.

Except it wasn’t.

Not for her.

Several hours earlier she had spoken to her father in person at the GCPD HQ.

“Dad I-“

“You don’t have to say anything. I know why you work for him. I know why you stayed.”

That wasn’t what I was going to say, she said inside her head. I was going to say that I’ve met someone. That he’s everything I’ve ever longed for. That I’ve been thinking about him constantly for months, that I love him, that I want to marry him. That I want you to know and I want you to be happy for me and yet I know there’s no way those two things can coexist.

Instead she said nothing. Merely hugged him and went back to her computer to work on restoring power and service to parts of the city hit hardest by the night’s events.

When she finally made to leave, Bruce offered to take her himself. She refused him.

“Barbara, I-“ 

“You need to be careful, Batman,” she said, “You’re not yourself. You’re not taking in all the information available to you and considering it before you act. You should get to Robin at Panessa.”

She had things she wanted to say to him, too. But she kept them to herself.

Instead she went home and used a glass cutter and some spare supplies for maintaining the clock face on her tower to make a cat flap high in the corner of one side, where it wouldn’t be noticed, and installed a metal rod below it as a perch on the inside and outside. On the outside, she left a chunk of raw beef she had borrowed earlier in the night from the Scarecrow’s effects in lockup.

It worked like a charm. As if she had been nearby and waiting for the invitation, Nightmare entered the apartment with her prize.

She flew down and landed on Barbara’s outstretched arm as the girl sat on the edge of her bed, letting out a soft rasp.

“Sleep where you like. You can even build a nest, if you want to,” Barbara said, “This home belongs to you now as much as it does to me.”

She checked her tablet one last time. Huntress had messaged her.

“You’ve been quiet. Everything ok? Nightwing said what that bastard did to you. I’m glad he’s screaming in a holding cell tonight. Hope he screams himself hoarse.”

“Not helpful, H,” she replied.

“Sorry. You’re right. Get some rest, O.”

Rain began to fall outside, washing away the residue of the night, of chemicals, of pollen, and nourishing a small flower that had grown up overnight at Gotham Botanical Gardens. It made soothing little sounds against the glass of the clocks in time with their ticking.

But all Barbara could hear was the sound of fiddles in her head.

She had her dreams, of what this time next year would look like. She didn’t believe any of them could be reality. She always dreamt she could have feeling back in her legs. Now she not only dreamt of that, she dreamt of a wedding night.

When she woke, she would make herself some coffee and take a shower, go through her daily unpleasant tasks of existence, and then she was going to go looking for a particular horse. Online, of course. For now.

The exhaustion eventually got the better of her, regardless of her racing thoughts, and she drifted off to sleep.

In a truck bound for Northern State Hospital, Jonathan Crane was coming out of his delirium. But not out of his fear.

For he hadn’t seen her in hours, and he had no idea what she was doing, if she was alright. A pleasant anxiety settled in his stomach, that he wouldn’t feel right until he spoke to her, and he felt his pockets for a tiny scrap of folded paper the police missed when rechecking him, a phone number that she had slipped him and he had found in a moment of lucidity some hours ago.

He would give her until the afternoon to sleep, and then he would call her. His little pet bat, his shining defender.

“I have a plan,” he had heard her whisper, “I’ve thought it all out, don’t worry. I’ll train Nightmare to fly to you and send her with the details.” He had only half processed it then, but now? Now he understood the full weight of her words.

The Batgirl was on his side now, and he was on hers. Their own side, neither villain nor hero. And all that mattered was ensuring they could be together.

The back of the truck was crowded and smelled of all the other freaks in transport with him to their temporary home while Arkham was restored. It would have to be restored. Nowhere else could contain the madness of Gotham; it was dangerous for anywhere else even to try.

Outside, a storm was drifting up from Gotham Bay, and under his breath, the Scarecrow sang,

_O, the wind and rain_


	2. Thanksgiving

Barbara sipped a bottle of root beer as she half-attentively watched the Gotham Knights lining up for a first down. She had turned down her father’s offer of actual beer, since she was driving later that night. 

A car had been another of her immediate priorities, one she could drive in her condition. It had been stupidly expensive, but Bruce hadn’t hesitated to buy it for her when she told him she needed it for medical appointments at an experimental hospital upstate.

Medical appointments. Right. Appointments with a doctor.

“What’s on your mind?” Dad asked as he set down his own bottle of Pilsner.

“Nothin,” she said with a shrug, trying to look more engaged in the TV. In reality she was looking at the clock. She needed to leave in the next 20 minutes to make evening visiting.

Dad took a long swig of his beer and then turned down the TV a little, muffling the voice of the announcer.

“When were you gonna tell me about your treatment?” He asked her, looking at her.

She looked at him as well, panic in her features.

“What treatment?”

“Barbara, please don’t try to lie to me,” he said, “I know you’ve been signing in at Northern State Hospital every week.”

“Dad! That information is confidential. What are you doing snooping around in their records?”

“We’re communicating a lot with Northern State, given the number of Gotham criminals currently staying there,” he said, “I just happened to glance at a sign-in sheet or two and noticed you’d been there at the same time every Thursday.”

She turned red, from fear, and embarrassment, and anger.

“Honey, if you need extra support, I just want to know,” he insisted, reaching over the arm of his recliner to take her hand, “What happened on Halloween was traumatic as hell. I’d have driven you, I’d have been happy to.”

Oh, God, what was she supposed to say? She could let him continue to think she was going to a doctor up there for treatment, but that would just make it worse when she eventually told him why she was really going up there.

If she told him.

She had to tell him eventually. She couldn’t go up there every week for the foreseeable future without risking someone finding out, someone talking to the wrong person. Even the distance from Gotham to the hospital wasn’t enough to protect her anonymity. 

“It’s just something I’m doing for me,” she said carefully, “It’s something personal. I chose not to tell anyone because I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s not conventional treatment, it’s just...something I decided to give myself.”

He made a noise of understanding. “I hear you. Well if you ever need anything, or want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I know, Dad,” she smiled, “You’ve been really understanding about the whole secretly working for Batman thing.”

“Well, it’s his fault, not yours,” he snorted, “I should’ve sent you to a convent. Men are bastards. You’ll get nothing good out of any of them, Barbara. Except maybe that Tim boy. How’s he?”

“Busy,” she said, “We haven’t been out since before Halloween.”

“Just as well. There will never be anyone good enough for you. Not that I don’t want you to be happy, honey, I just...well, I worry about you, that’s all.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Dad,” she said, “I can take care of myself. And I have plenty of people looking out for me. Including you.”

“Point taken,” he patted her hand before turning back to the TV, “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

“Liar,” she said to her reflection in the car mirror on the highway leading out of town, “Liar, liar, liar.”

Why had she had such an easy time hiding being Batgirl, being Oracle, from her father, but was having such a hard time with this?

Her phone was ringing. It was Dinah.

“Hey, D,” she said as she answered.

“Hey, B,” Black Canary replied, “On your way up for your appointment?”

“Yeah,” she said, “No traffic because of the holiday. It’s nice.”

“I’ll bet. I’m at home in my pajamas. I’m letting Huntress handle tonight. About the worst we can expect on Thanksgiving without the Joker around is Calendar Man.”

Barbara laughed, “It’s been so low key lately,” she said, “It’s been nice. I don’t want to get lulled into a false sense of security or anything, but it’s been eerie how quiet it’s been, with so many major players out of commission.”

“Almost doesn’t feel like Gotham, does it?”

“Almost,” she agreed.

“What kind of treatment are you getting, anyway?”

Oh God. No, people, stop asking, I don’t want to lie anymore, I don’t want to, I want to tell the truth but if I do, you’ll lock me in an attic and never let me out again.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s just talking, but it’s different. This doctor...makes me feel different from anyone else, when I talk to him. 

“Ok, but is it a therapy thing or like, a crush thing?” Dinah asked, “Cause I know that voice. Is he cute?”

Barbara giggled, “Ok, so what if he is?”

“What kind of cute? Rock star cute? Jock cute?”

“Not really cute, to be honest, more, pretty. Nerdy pretty.”

She wasn’t lying. He had been once upon a time, and would be again.

“Nerdy pretty. Glasses?”

“Glasses.”

“You have to have really pretty eyes to pull off glasses.”

“Oh, God, Dinah, his eyes,” it was a totally honest swoon, “He looks right through me and it’s terrifying but it’s...yeah.”

“Ok, so that’s the big secret. I knew you were keeping one. You’re driving almost two hours for therapy because the doctor is hot. How did you find this guy anyway?”

“Oh, you know,” she said, “Google search.”

“What’s his name?”

Barbara almost choked, but recovered with a, “Oh no. I’m not telling you, you’ll either try and flirt with him yourself or send him secret admirer notes from me.”

“Fair enough,” Dinah laughed, “Oh, Chinese is here. Talk to you soon, B.”

“See ya, D.”

At the hospital, Barbara took her place at a vacant table in the visiting room, waiting for her poor prisoner to be brought to her. He looked awful, wrapped in facial bandages after another surgery courtesy of Dr. Elliot, but his eyes were still as sharp as ever.

“Something’s bothering you,” he said softly, touching her hand across the table. His nails were healing well.

She sighed. “I’m sick of lying. Every question someone asks, I just get deeper and deeper into a hole I don’t know how to dig myself out of. I don’t want to lie. I want to just tell everyone. But if one of them tried something, tried to keep me from you, or get you transferred somewhere else I’d…” she dug her nails into her palms, “I’d completely snap.”

“Barbara,” he squeezed her hand, “No one will be able to keep us apart forever. Not with your plan. Don’t fall so hard for me you become codependent. If they transfer me far away, we’ll talk on the phone like we already do, just more often, and see each other on holidays. And there’s nothing either Bruce or your father could lock you in that you couldn’t hack your way out of.”

“I know,” she sighed, “I just. Don’t want there to be any drama. But I know there will be. Tons of drama. Why does there have to be drama?”

“Because we dress up like bats and scarecrows and dance-fight on rooftops and call ourselves The Night and The God of Fear,” he laughed, “Whether we want to admit it or not, we all thrive on drama.”

“I don’t like this kind.”

“Well, perhaps you should rip off the bandage, as it were. Tell everyone now.”

“I probably should. Damn it.”

“I support you whatever you decide,” he said, “I’d smile at you, but I’m supposed to move my face as little as possible for the next week.”

“My poor thing,” she squeezed his wrist, “Still, it will be worth it.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “It will.”

They talked until she had to leave, and on the way home she stared at her phone every few miles.

She could just send a group text now and get it over with. “Dating Jonathan Crane. Not negotiating with you. Get over it.”

No. That wasn’t the way to do this. That wasn’t the way to try and bring a new person into the fold of people you’ve trusted for years, in some cases your whole life.

But how?

She didn’t think about it once she got home. She fed Nightmare, who by now had built a very nice nest in the rafters of the tower, then poured herself some cold brew, and sat down at her computer.

There really was nothing going on the police couldn’t handle. 

Maybe she should go to bed early. Or do something else for herself. Some self care.

She went to her bedside table and dabbed on a little of the perfume Jonathan had made her, then went to the hidden panel on the wall that hid her old Batgirl costume. She opened the panel and looked at her former identity.

It had sat static for too long, she decided. It was time for a refresh, even if she couldn’t wear it anymore.

She smiled. This was going to be fun.


	3. Christmas

Alfred Pennyworth was the king of Christmas lunch. 

Every year, with very little help aside from the occasional person drafted to watch and stir something like the gravy, he put together a feast that combined British and American traditions into a best of lineup that would leave any normal person stuffed to the gills. This year was no exception, and in the aftermath of the meal almost the whole bat family was spread out across the couches of the most casual room in Wayne Manor, groaning as It’s A Wonderful Life played soundlessly on the TV as it always did. 

“I still don’t understand how you can make Brussels sprouts taste good,” said Tim. 

Alfred laughed, “Old family recipe,” he said, “It’s just not Christmas without Brussels sprouts.”

The only one who wasn’t seated with them was Bruce. He was standing, staring out the window. 

He hadn’t been the same since Halloween. The Joker’s blood was getting to him, and all their work at the studios had yielded nothing so far, except for the knowledge that the gristly combination of bloodletting and blood transfusions seemed to be delaying to progress of the disease somewhat. He had long since given Jason the keys to the Batmobile, the young man putting aside his desire to kill in order to do justice to the cowl of Batman while Bruce didn’t trust himself to do so. 

Bruce Wayne made fewer and fewer public appearances. He spent his time between the manor and Panessa and prayed for a breakthrough. 

Barbara still couldn’t shake the belief that if she could persuade them all, somehow, somehow, to let Jon have a look at their experiments, he could discover something. 

She had lost track of the time. Her phone was ringing for their daily call. 

She stood and slipped quietly from the room. 

She answered the phone two doors down in the library. 

“Merry Christmas, darling,” she said softly. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jonathan replied, “How was lunch?”

“Oh my word, I ate so much. It was all so good. Can’t wait to have a proper Christmas dinner with you next year.”

“It will be my first,” he said, “Although they did admirably here. The old women in the kitchens are not terrible.”

“Well that’s good,” she almost giggled, “Anything else going on?”

“Christmas movies in the day room, all damn day. The staff gave me a journal and a pair of better socks.”

“Well that was nice of them,” she said. 

The staff at Northern State adored Jonathan. In fact, he had been in a regular, normal-security ward since his third week there, so compliant and well-behaved was he. Barbara had frequent conversations with the hospital director, who expressed regret at the legal barriers affecting his potential release. 

“There’s nothing we can do for him here, except give him outlets for his intelligence. He’s not insane, not by a long shot. Just affected by a different moral code. But it seems like meeting you has...reset that code. Given him one that matches with regular society. He’s also the single most intelligent person we’ve ever administered a Wechsler to. The real crime is keeping him here, instead of giving him access to an advanced biomedical research laboratory.”

“I’m a cop’s daughter,” she would always tell the director, “I have faith in the system.”

Did she? Sometimes. She had much more faith in her and Jonathan’s ability to game the system than she did the system itself. Unshakeable faith. By the time Jonathan entered a courtroom, he would not only look like a model citizen, he would have months of model behavior behind him. The holy grail of defenses, the temporary insanity plea, would be easy to obtain. 

“Yes, it was rather nice, wasn’t it?” Jonathan said, “And what about you? Get any good presents?”

She laughed. “I’m surrounded by men, I got a stack of gift cards a half a mile high.”

“I suppose,” he said with a wistful tone, “I should let you get back to them.”

She sighed, “Yeah, probably. Just for now though. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I love you, my Inanna. I’ll see you beyond the gates of the underworld.”

She giggled this time, “I love you too, honey. I’ll see you soon.”

“Honey?” came a voice behind her, “I guess we haven’t met your boyfriend because you’re afraid we’ll scare him off?”

She whipped around. Jason was standing in the doorway. 

“What are you doing in here?” She snapped. 

“Checking on you,” he said with a smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Now come on. Cat’s out of the bag. What’s his name? How old is he? What does he do for a living?”

“Stop asking me questions,” Barbara said in a warning tone. 

“Babs, come on,” he shut the door behind him, “I won’t tell anyone else, but it’s me. You can tell me.”

She wanted to. She wanted to tell someone. Anyone. 

Much to her frustration, she burst into tears. 

“Whoa,” said Jason, swooping down to his knees and taking her hands in his, “Barbara, are you okay? What the hell is going on?”

She leaned her head back to try and funnel tears back into her eyes. 

“Jason,” she said, “Jason, I’m in love. I’m in love for the first time in my life. And he’s handsome, and he’s kind to me, and he’s funny and he’s smart and he’s weird and he’s...just so stupidly perfect and I can’t tell anybody about it because if I do I may not see him for…” she sniffled and looked back to him, “For a really long time.”

“Hey, now,” he reached his thumb under her glasses to gently dry one eye, “You’re in love? That’s great! You’re supposed to be smiling about that, not crying. Yeah Tim might pout for a while, and Bruce is...yeah, he may get overprotective and your dad is...your dad...but none of that means you can’t see him. People will come around eventually.”

“I wish that were true, Jason,” she squeezed his hands, “I really, really do. And if I had been smart and normal, I could’ve picked one of the other 8 billion people on the planet and then it could be true. But I didn’t, I picked…I picked...”

He laughed. “What’s the matter, Babs, are you, like, dating the Riddler or something?”

His smile faded when he saw the look she was giving him. 

“Ohhhhh shit,” he said, “Who? You have to tell me who.”

“Who do you think?” She asked in a defeated sigh, “Who did I spend half of Halloween night with?”

Jason let go of her hands and slowly stood. 

“Barbara,” he said, “What are you saying?”

“That I love Jonathan. Dr. Jonathan Crane. The Scarecrow.”

Jason balled his hand into a fist, “That piece of shit, I’ll fucking kill him!”

“See? See this is why I hadn’t told any of you. Because you think it’s your place to go kill someone I love because you don’t like him.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him, Barbara, it’s that he’s a literal criminal!”

“And so are you!” She shouted, “Arkham Knight! That didn’t just go away because Bruce put a nameless thug in your suit and had him pronounced dead. You still did all those things and people welcomed you back to the family with open arms.”

“That’s different,” he said, but his bluster was faltering, “I didn’t become that through my own fault.”

“Neither did Jon,” she said, “He wasn’t born like this. He was made into what he became and he can be unmade. If you’d talk to his doctors at Northern State you’d see it’s already started.”

“If he did anything to you on Halloween night-“

“Oh, can it, Jason, I’d have cut his balls off and fed them to him. He’s not that kind of criminal. Besides, why can Bruce fuck his way through half the female Rogue’s Gallery but I can’t have a respectful relationship with one male one? Hm? Is it because I’m a girl? Because there’s no POSSIBLE way I could’ve made an informed decision about this, no way I could know what’s best for me on my own, right? Because I’m just a stupid little girl. Bruce having his on again off agains with Selena and Thalia are perfectly ok because he’s a man and it’s just sex. Even if the Riddler uses Selina as an excuse to set up a thousand death traps through the city! But little girl Barbara falls in real love with the Scarecrow and suddenly we’re gonna get all moralistic.”

Jason looked angry at first, but by the end of her speech, he was simply stunned. He ran his hand along the back of his neck, “Holy shit, Babs, I really don’t want to say this, but you’re absolutely right.”

She turned her chin up and crossed her arms, “I know I am. And I’m in love with Jonathan and nothing anyone in my life, not you, not Bruce, not the whole family, not my dad, not the Birds of Prey, says is going to do a damn thing about it.”

She sniffled and whispered, “And I’m just so tired of being asked questions and having to lie.”

He swallowed. His first instinct was to tell everyone, but he couldn’t do that. This was her secret to tell, just like his secret on Halloween had been his. And being a dick about it was probably just going to drive a wedge between her and all of them, and if Scarecrow did turn out to be playing her somehow, she needed all the connection she could get with others. 

“Well, hey.” He said, “You don’t have to lie to me anymore. And you can tell the others when you’re ready to. I can help you if you want. Come up with how to tell them.”

She smiled through her tears, “Thank you, Jason. You’ve always been my favorite.”

“Knew it,” he winked. 

Alfred knocked on the door and entered. 

“Is everything quite alright?”

“Everything’s fine, Alfred,” Jason said, “Just. Got to talking about Halloween.”

Alfred nodded. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

When they were alone again, Jason said, “Now as a disclaimer I just have to say I am 100% against this, but you’re right, we’d all be sexist hypocrites to try and stop you, so I’m just gonna trust that you can handle yourself and hope that…” he sighed, “Hope that either some miracle happened and he’s not evil anymore, or that you’ll get wise to him before he hurts you.”

Barbara smiled again. “That’s a hell of a lot better than the “locking me in an attic” I was expecting.”

“Lock you? In an attic?” He scoffed as he walked behind her to push her chair toward the door, “Don’t be ridiculous. Without an army of heavily-armed henchman, you could kick my ass any day.”


	4. New Year’s Eve

“Well lookie here,” said Edward Nygma in the hallway as his shackled line of fellow criminals passed Jonathan’s much less restricted line, “If it isn’t Barbara Gordon’s little pet crow.”

Jonathan ignored him. Nygma didn’t have the slightest idea what he and his dear little bat were planning, and as such, his opinion on the matter couldn’t possibly be consequential. 

“How does that work?” the Riddler continued, “You know, with half of her being paralyzed? Do you have to-“

“Quiet!” An orderly at the head of Nygma’s line barked, “Nygma, no one thinks you’re clever.”

“I’m the cleverest person in here,” the man muttered under his breath. 

If you’re so clever, Jonathan thought, but didn’t say, What are you still doing in maximum security?

The lines began to move in opposite directions. Nygma shouted something else in Jonathan’s direction, but he couldn’t make it out. Just as well. 

Nothing could make today a bad day. It was one of Barbara’s visiting days, after all. 

And visit she did. Together they laughed about inside jokes and wistfully planned future days, and then she went rather quiet.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked her.

“I told Jason,” she said, “I think I might tell the girls.”

“Whatever feels right to you,” he said, “I’d be happy to announce it from the rooftop, but I’m not the one who has to live with the consequences.”

“I don’t know,” she said, “I’m sure plenty of the other criminals would find it bizarre that you’re acting normal all of a sudden, and spending time with the police commissioner’s daughter.”

Jonathan thought back to Nygma and laughed once in his throat, “Yes, well. There are a lot of lonely, frustrated, unhealthy sorts in the high-security wards, and their jealousy doesn’t bother me.”

They shared an embrace as she left.

**  
After her visit, Barbara found herself in her clock tower with Dinah and Helena, getting ready for the Wayne Foundation’s New Year’s Eve Gala.

“Barb, did you hear what I said?” Dinah asked.

“Hm?” She turned from where she was looking in the mirror, applying a set of false lashes, “Oh, no, sorry. Sidetracked.”

“Did you see Hot Doctor today?”

Helena leaned in, “What’s this? Hot doctor?”

“Yeah,” said Dinah, “She’s been driving up to Northern State Hospital every week to see some hot doctor. Though she’s vague on whether it’s for therapy or they’re actually dating.”

“We’re actually dating,” said Barbara with a blush, “It’s just, well, we can’t really go out. Yet.”

“Why not?” Helena asked.

Just then, the cat flap made a noise as Nightmare entered.

“Holy crap!” Helena said as she looked up, “Barbara, when did you get a pet crow? And why?”

Barbara turned absolutely scarlet. “It’s a raven.”

Dinah’s jaw dropped as she put it together.

Down Nightmare flew and nibbled on Barbara’s ear, a message tied to her leg. She reached up and unwrapped it, sliding it into her evening bag to read later.

Helena’s brow knit, “You’re passing notes by raven?”

“Barbara,” Dinah said softly, “Barbara, are you and...Crane??”

Barbara made a weak little squeaking noise.

“Crane?” Asked Helena, “JONATHAN Crane?”

“Yes, ok,” the redhead looked down, “We met online months before Halloween night. We got to know each other. And we had a very important, productive conversation on Halloween that ended with him surrendering himself to Batman and ever since he’s been working very diligently at his treatment and he really is reforming. Reformed.”

Helena’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know, Barb. It’s like cheaters. Once that way, always that way.”

Dinah didn’t speak.

“Oh, come on, Helena,” said Barbara, “What’s the point of sending people to a hospital if not to cure them? Don’t we want them to get better? Isn’t that the point?”

“Well yeah,” she said, “But it doesn’t mean you go dating them.”

“Say something,” Barbara turned to Dinah.

The blonde chewed her lip, “Listen. I can’t say that I like it, but it’s not my business. I’ve never liked it when Batman has run after criminals, either, but that doesn’t stop him. We can’t really control who we feel drawn to, can we?”

“Have you considered the possibility that our friend and colleague is being profoundly manipulated by a master at exploiting human psychology? Or that she could be drugged?” Helena asked.

“I have more faith in Barbara than that. In Oracle.”

Helena looked ashamed for a moment.

“I guess I should too,” she said, “I mean he’s not Poison Ivy or anything. It’s not like his shtick is making love toxin. But still. This changes everything, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Barbara, “I’m still Oracle. I always will be. Unless by some miracle I get to be Batgirl again,” she said nothing about the lab rat, about Christmas, “Anyway. Jason knows. He had a similar reaction.”

“You told Jason before you told us?” Dinah asked, “Now I’m really pissed.”

Barbara looked to her, and they both laughed.

“So what’s he like?” Helena asked in the interest of being a friend.

“Charming,” said Barbara, “The smartest person I’ve ever had a conversation with. His brain is like an encyclopedia that soaks up everything he reads, and he reads constantly. But it’s not just that. He can see connections in things, especially when it comes to chemistry, that just don’t show up on other people’s radars. He’s polite in an old-fashioned way. Romantic in this kind of gothic way. He’s always paying to have me flowers sent,” she gestured to a bouquet on the vanity beside her, “Amaranth and fiddlehead fern and dark red roses and flowers that have hidden meanings from a hundred years ago.”

“Ok, not going to lie, that sounds pretty fantastic,” said Helena, “So he’s not just foaming at the mouth about fear all the time?”

“No,” said Barbara with an eye roll, “That’s a persona. A mask. Like the personas we wear. Who he is under all that is very...sensitive, and gentle.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Dinah, “You’re actually fixing a guy. That just doesn’t happen.”

“I’m not fixing him,” she said, “He’s fixing himself. He chose to. Because that’s the only way we can be together.”

“Shit, that’s romantic,” said Helena, “Maybe I should date a masked criminal.”

“It’s not easy,” sighed Barbara, playing with one of the clusters of red amaranth in her bouquet, “It’s hard to be apart, but it won’t be forever.”

“Does your father know?” Dinah asked.

Barbara scoffed, “No. I don’t know when I’m going to tell him. I’m terrified, honestly. You know how his temper is.”

“If you decide you want backup, we’re here for you,” Helena said, putting her hand on Barbara’s arm, “I know, how easy it is to want things to be black and white, but they’re just not. Not in Gotham, anyway. Gotham is grey. And if this has got to be grey, the least we can do is stand in the grey with you.”

Barbara put her arms around each of them, “Thank you both. I didn’t expect telling anyone not to end in screams. I’ve been surprised.”

**  
Barbara was tired of parties. Tired of sitting off to the side, too short for the cocktail tables, hiding in a corner behind plants and the punch bowl. But no one usually found her there.

Alfred, however, found her tonight.

“Weary of the festivities, Miss Gordon?”

“Always, Alfred,” she said, gesturing to her metal prison, “They’re never designed with chairs in mind.”

“Well, I happen to know the sous chef of the hotel,” the older man said, “If you’d like to retire for a cup of tea.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said.

In the chef’s office off the hotel kitchen, they sat with their tea on fine china and a stolen pile of canapés.

“We’re somewhat alike, you know,” Alfred said, “I’ve always been around the outside of the party. The butler. Beloved, relied upon, but still, in service. Never fully one of the lot.”

“Neither of us really fit in anymore, do we?”

“I suppose not,” he gave her a sad smile, “But we do what we must. For those we care about. Speaking of which, whatever happened to John?”

“Well,” she said, looking down, “I found out that John is really Jonathan.”

His eyebrows raised, “My goodness. That must’ve been heartbreaking.”

“It was, for a few hours. But then I realized he’s still the same, that he never lied to me about anything that mattered. I’ve been. I’ve been visiting him upstate. I love him, Alfred.”

He sighed and laughed a little, “So like Master Bruce you are, Miss Gordon. Do what you will, though I doubt the others will take well to it.”

“Jason was pissed, until he realized how hypocritical he was being. After all, Bruce has Selena, had Thalia.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Dinah and Helena know. That’s it. And you.” She smiled, “Thank you for being the easiest person to tell.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Miss Gordon. I’ve no doubt there’s redeeming value in the man; if you want to take that risk, I’ve no authority to stop you, and neither has anyone else.”

That night as she wriggled out of her dress in her bathroom, she remembered the note in her handbag and retrieved it. She took care of all the unpleasantness of being paraplegic, and then began to open it as she rode the elevator back upstairs.

“My dear little bat,

“I miss you so terribly. Whenever you leave, a part of me goes with you. 

“I have begun meeting with the attorney you found. She agrees with you completely that this should not be difficult. I have also heard news that Arkham should be reopening in time for Valentine’s Day. Wouldn’t that be something, to be able to spend the day of lovers together in the place where this all began?

“Until death and beyond,  
Scarecrow”

She held it to her chest as she slept that night.


	5. Valentine’s Day

On Valentine’s Day, it all went to hell.

It started with a text from Tim. Call me, it said. She blew air through her lips for a few seconds before thinking that she probably should.

“I’ve got two tickets to the opera tonight,” he said, “I know it’s a little highbrow, but I won them on the radio and I thought it might be fun.”

“I’m sorry, Tim,” she sighed, “But I’ve got plans.”

“Oh.” His voice made her cringe.

“Tim, don’t be like that.”

“I just. I thought that we put it on hold for the sake of the city. I didn’t realize you were going to see someone else.”

“It just kind of...happened. I wasn’t planning for it. I wasn’t expecting it. I just...met someone and spent some time with them and it ended up becoming a thing.”

“A thing? What’s a thing? What do you mean by a thing?”

She was half understanding and half done with him. “A serious thing. Like, four months of thing. Like, I’m pretty sure he’s the one thing.”

“The one?” He sounded so sad. Barbara sighed.

“Yes, Tim. I’m sorry. I’m very fond of you and I always will be, but...I’m in real love with Jonathan.”

She said his name. Whoops. Well, there were lots of guys named Jonathan.

“So his name’s Jonathan?”

“Yes, Tim.”

“Jonathan who?”

“You’re not background checking my boyfriend, Tim.”

“Like hell I’m not,” he said, “If I have to lose out to someone I’m at least making certain he’s worthy of you.”

“Worthy of me? Oh, and you’re the arbiter of who’s worthy of me, I guess? My ex-boyfriend gets to decide who’s worthy of me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Barb,” he said, “I just want you to be careful.”

“Everyone wants me to be careful,” she said, “What if I don’t want to be careful? What if I want to dive headfirst into something passionate that makes no sense?”

“That’s not always the safest thing, Barb.”

“Oh, to hell with safe,” she groaned, “Nothing we’ve ever done has been safe. I’ve never been safe, I’m a cop’s daughter. The least you all can grant me is to be unsafe on my own terms.”

“Ok, I get it. Will you at least let me Google him?”

She muted her phone and growled under her breath. Nightmare flew down from her perch and nibbled her ear as if to soothe her. She reached up and scritched the bird’s neck.

She was doing it. Enough hiding.

“Sure, Tim,” she said after taking him off of mute, “Go ahead, Google Jonathan Crane and tell me what you find.”

“Jonathan Crane,” he said thoughtfully, then realized and coughed, “WHAT?”

“Yeah, Tim,” she said, totally out of patience, “I’m dating Scarecrow. Fight me.”

And she hung up.

And she went to Arkham.

Four months of restoration had restored Medical and Intensive Treatment and half of the Penitentiary. The mansion and the botanical gardens were still in need of extensive construction, but the facility could be used, and she was glad.

Of course, hiding was harder now. Any guard at any time could call her father and tell him. And judging by the vibration on her phone, Tim wasn’t the only person calling her constantly. But she turned it over to be placed in a locker and chose not to worry about it, and went to the visiting hall.

It was different from Northern State. They sat on opposite sides of bulletproof glass and spoke through a screen. It was barbaric, but it was necessary. She could see him twice a week in Arkham, and it was worth the conditions.

“What’s troubling you today?” He asked her immediately.

“I told Tim. Which means by the time I leave here everyone’s going to know. And I’m going to be dealing with that fallout,” she blew air through her lips again, “But honestly I’m almost...relieved? It’s like ripping off a bandage.”

“Well, it’s done. Let them rage and complain. Meanwhile, things continue to go well for us legally. I should be out by the summer.”

She nodded, slightly tearful. “It’s just so much stress. Knowing so few people understand. Even the people who aren’t fighting me about it constantly don’t truly understand.”

He nodded thoughtfully, “Perhaps you’re looking in the wrong places for support.”

She thought for a moment, “Maybe I am,” she said, “I don’t want to lose my friends, my family. But maybe I can’t get everything I need from them anymore.”

“I’d suggest broadening your horizons,” he said, “Whatever that means to you.”

A guard tapped her on the shoulder and offered her a small black box.

“What’s this?” She asked.

“I took the liberty of ordering you a present,” Jonathan said, “I hope you don’t mind.”

She blushed and giggled. “You already got me flowers! What on earth could this be?”

She began to open the box.

Her jaw dropped.

Inside was a platinum ring in a twisted pattern like thorny vines, culminating in a rose setting that held a large black diamond. The metal was slightly antiqued and rustic looking, rather than the smooth curves of a commercial piece of jewelry.

“I had it made,” he said, “I wanted to capture both the beauty and the darkness in you.”

She turned it over in her fingers, “Jonathan, this is a diamond ring.”

“I know it is.”

“Diamond rings are for proposals.”

“I’d rather have done it in autumn in a barley field with Nightmare present and been on one knee,” he said, looking down, “But I didn’t want to wait. And this way we can get married on Halloween, if you like, the day we met.”

“I...I like that idea.”

“Then will you marry me, Barbara?”

“I will, Jonathan.”

She felt like she was on a cloud. Nothing could bring her down, it seemed. She took her belongings back from the guard at check-in and looked at her phone.

Her father had called. So had Bruce. So had Dick.

She looked down at her ring.

She didn’t care.

But as she rolled out to her car, she saw a figure in a big brown coat waiting there, puffing on a pipe.

“Dad,” she said, her tone and expression guarded.

“What in God’s name are you playing at, Barbara?”

He was furious.

“I’m not playing at anything,” she said, “I’m in love with a reformed criminal,” she held up her hand, “In fact, we’re engaged.”

“Absolutely not!” He roared.

“I’m not a child!” She yelled back, “I can make my own decisions. You don’t even know him. I do. I understand you don’t like it but honestly I don’t care. So if you’re going to try and intimidate me into calling it off, it’s not going to work.”

She glared at him. For a moment it was an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, and then he turned and stormed off.

This wasn’t over, she knew. But she had earned a reprieve.

When she arrived at home, Nightmare had a note for her.

“Stay strong, my queen of the night.”

For him, she could. For their future, she could.

In the end, she didn’t sleep there. She went to Dinah’s in order to avoid any nasty surprises in the night. She didn’t put it past anyone to barge in and demand answers.

She was tired of feeling like she owed people answers.


	6. Saint Patrick’s Day

On Saint Patrick’s Day, the camera at the botanical gardens that had been trained on the strange, exotic flower that had appeared there Halloween night caught something truly extraordinary. 

It caught the blooming of a massive bud, and Poison Ivy stepping out of it. Then a tangle of vines covered the camera lens, and no one had seen her since.

Barbara found her, though, purely by accident. She found her because she found Harley Quinn.

The Clown Princess had escaped from Northern State back in December, and had been laying low ever since. But no one could match Barbara’s skills at hacking and tracking. Truthfully, she had known where she was for some time, but she hadn’t revealed it to Bruce.

Because she wanted Harley to be comfortable when she went to talk to her.

Oracle arranged the meeting online, and Barbara gave the code word to the goons at the warehouse door.

Inside the warehouse office, on a pink futon, bathed in the soft light from strings of tiny bulbs, sat Harley and Ivy with a hyena and a massive Venus fly trap.

“Babs Gordon,” Harley said with surprise, “Not exactly who I was expecting.”

“Dr. Quinzel,” Barbara nodded.

“Please, call me Harley. Everyone does.”

“Harley,” she said, “Any guesses why I’m here?”

“Hmm,” Harley made an exaggerated thinking face, tapping her finger against her chin, “I’m gonna guess it has something to do with all the times you’ve gone to see Dr. Crane.”

“Yep,” said the girl in the wheelchair. For once, she told someone and they didn’t react with shock.

“Dr. Crane is a real peach,” Harley said, “Always a perfect gentleman. You two are both the booksy type, dry, introverted - I can see it working.”

It was the first truly positive thing anyone had said about the match.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, totally, I mean, I totally think there’s probably more there than classic belated rebellion against paternal male authority figures.”

Ivy laughed at that.

“What do you think?” Barbara asked her.

“I think there’s no way he’s reformed,” Ivy said, “But I think you think the same thing.”

Barbara smirked a bit. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, “But I will say I love Jonathan. Everything about him. But I need to know how to make this work. What’s it like being in love with someone on your side of the law?”

“It’s a real thrill,” sighed Harley dreamily, “But then, you know that. You don’t need me to tell you that. What do you really want to know?”

“Do you have to leave everything behind? Do you have to lose everything you had before?”

“For someone like Mr. J?” Harley asked, “Yeah, you do. But that’s the way he is. He doesn’t ever love you back. It’s about getting to say he made you crazy,” the blonde reached out and took Ivy’s hand, “But with Ivy? I got to decide who I was. She just wants me to be who I am, and she wants to be who she is, we just do it together.”

Ivy looked away for a moment, then gently squeezed Harley’s hand, “It’s just like being with anyone. If they demand you leave your old life behind, that’s a red flag. But if everyone you knew sees you happy and turns their back on you, that’s a red flag, too.”

“Thank you both,” said Barbara, “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She unlocked her wheels to leave.

“What? Where you goin?” Harley asked, “It’s Saint Paddy’s Day! Wanna have a drink?”

Barbara smiled. “You know what...why not?”

Barbara had one drink with the two women, before a goon dropped her off at Dinah’s, where Helena was waiting as well. 

“My nightshade flower, my shining white bat, I long to kiss you again, to hold you in my arms unfettered by the prying eyes of others. I long to join you on your perch above the city, and...Well, from there it starts to get dirty,” Barbara turned red as she swiftly pocketed her latest letter from Jonathan.

“He writes like some kind of gothic antihero out of an old book,” said Helena, “Really, I never expected Mister Fear Drives Everything to be a hardcore romantic.”

“I’ve never had a guy send me love letters and call me romantic names in them,” said Dinah, “Clearly I’m looking in the wrong places.”

“Look in a library,” said Barbara, “That’s where I found him. The real him.”

“The trial seems to be going well,” said Helena, “It’s all over the news. But you know that.”

“Ugh, yes. Thank God I’ve been able to stay out of it so far,” sighed Barbara, “We’ve arranged it so that I’m providing a character witness on the very last day. We’ll be seen leaving together anyway, when he...well, when he’s released.”

“You’re pretty confident about that,” said Dinah.

Barbara nodded. “I know the system. And I know Jonathan.”

They shared a couple of beers and, when Barbara had sobered up, she drove back to her tower, where she was surprised to find a bouquet of orange roses waiting for her. The same thing her father always gave her on the nights of her recitals.

They had fought over the phone twice more since Valentine’s Day. She had thought his heels were dug in permanently, but...

“I’m sorry,” read the card, “Call me?”

She did.

“Barb,” her father sounded so relieved, “Honey, I’m sorry. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Dad.”

“I don’t like it,” he said, “But you’re right. You’re an adult and you can make your own decisions. And, well, I’ve been following the trial, and he’s convincing. At the very least I can see how you’re convinced.”

“Thank you, Dad, for being an adult.”

“It’s hard to be an adult about your only daughter,” he said, “Especially for a single father. But I promise not to threaten him or anything like that. I promise to be civil, when we meet. I promise to come see you get married.”

“Dad,” she sniffled, “Dad, I’m so glad. Thank you so much, you don’t know what you’ve given me.”

“Thank you for forgiving me.”

“Of course. Wanna grab breakfast tomorrow?”

“I’d love to.”

Well, that was one more down. That left Tim, Dick, and Bruce, two of whom were practically shut-ins at Panessa by that point. 

Barbara went to her computer and pulled up her Oracle interface.

“Hey Dick,” she said into her comms.

“Barb,” he said, “I’m surprised to hear from you.”

“How’s the night going?”

“Oh, the usual. Drunken thug brawls. Working on a bit of a weird long-term case. Actually, I’ve been tempted to call you about it, but since I was a jerk on Valentine’s Day I figured you didn’t want to hear from me.”

“I always want to hear from you, Dick.”

He had been her first love. They had been children when they first had a crush on each other. The boy wonder and the bat-girl.

“I just want you to be safe, Barb,” he said with sincerity, “I want you to be happy. It’s hard to picture you being happy with a criminal, and it’s really hard to picture you being safe with one.”

“Dick, he’s not the Joker,” she was just as emphatic, “He’s a doctor with a history full of trauma he’s working through, and he’s trying to cure me.”

“He’s...what?”

“Yeah,” she said, “He’s developed a serum that can convert scar tissue. He used himself as the human trial, even though it was dangerous. On his leg that Croc shredded. It...it worked, Dick. It healed his leg. I might…” she choked, “I might walk again.”

“Holy hell, Barb, that’s incredible and that’s...that’s not like him.”

“It’s not like him in the depths of his madness,” she said, “It’s very like the version of him I know.”

“I guess you do know him in a way the rest of us don’t.”

“Lovers always do.”

“So, you’re,” he cleared his throat, “You’re going to marry him.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “Yeah, I am. I’d like you to be there.”

“Barb, I don’t know. Bruce might not…”

“Bruce might not even be alive by then, Dick,” she said, “In fact, I think when Jonathan is released, we should let him take a look at him, if we want him to survive this.”

“Bruce will never agree to that. Tim...might, but probably not.”

“Then help me,” she pleaded, “Help me convince Tim. Jonathan can see things in chemical formulas no one else can. He’s an absolute genius, Dick, and he wants to help. To make up for things.”

Dick sighed, “I’ll try, Barb. Heaven knows we’re desperate. I’ll send you the files on these kidnappings that have been showing a pattern in Bludhaven.”

“Do that,” she smiled, “I could use some new work.”

“Ugh, gotta go,” said Dick, “Another bar brawl.”

“Your work is never done.”

“Never,” he laughed, “Have a good night.”


	7. April Fool’s Day

“Finally, in what has to be the most shocking April Fool’s Day development in Gotham City history, this morning the trial of the Scarecrow concluded with a judgement of temporary insanity. Testimony from hospital directors and even the police commissioner's daughter seemed to clench the deal for a release for Dr. Jonathan Crane. Appearing almost normal in a suit with sweater vest and glasses, not only has the once-feared criminal been turned loose on the streets of Gotham, but he left the courthouse in the company of Barbara Gordon, the aforementioned commissioner’s daughter. A source just revealed to us that Miss Gordon has been visiting the Scarecrow for months, leading to speculation about the nature of their relationship. One thing’s for certain, Gotham; things have only gotten more strange in the city since the death of the Joker.”

Barbara turned off the TV.

Curled up on the sofa next to Jonathan, her head on his shoulder, the couple was at last together, and they hadn’t stopped cuddling since they arrived home at the clock tower.

“They’re certainly going to be shocked in October,” he said with a smirk.

“Yes, they are,” she smiled up at him.

“I’ve missed you so much. In some ways I’ve been waiting my entire life for this. To just exist with someone I trust, someone I care about,” he laced his fingers in hers and kissed her knuckles, “I’ve never felt so safe in my life.”

“Neither have I,” she sighed happily. Their dear pet raven flew down to her Daddy’s shoulder.

“And who do we have to thank for our private letters these past months?” He booped the raven’s beak, “Our sweet little terror, yes we do. I can’t wait to finally see Dread.”

“We’ll go to the park tomorrow,” she said, “All it took was one look at the conditions he was kept in on that farm back in January to get him turned over. He looks amazing now. You’ll be pleased with his recovery.”

“That poor horse,” he sighed, “A hard youth and hard times as an adult.”

“Like you,” she said.

“Like me,” he agreed.

She hummed to herself softly, uninterrupted for a while before he spoke again.

“I was thinking I would make scampi tonight,” he said.

“Oh, hell yes!” She grinned, “I’ll order the groceries.”

“I’m going to be cooking for you a lot, you know,” he said, “You live on too much take out.”

“I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing,” she laughed.

“Really, that stuff will rot your insides.”

“So are we going vegan, then?”

“Three nights a week meatless?” He asked, “It’s good for the environment; Ivy will appreciate that.”

“Harley and Ivy have been really cool,” she said, “I’m glad Ivy’s back.”

“So am I,” he said, “Not my finest moment. Think she’ll ever forgive me?”

“I’m sure she will. You guys are always scrapping with each other over something, forming and breaking alliances.”

“It’s a funny world, the underworld of Gotham,” he said, “I don’t miss it much. I was never really cut out to be a criminal. The jobs were all to fund the study. I just wanted to research, before I wanted revenge.”

“You just never had a moral compass in your research,” she teased him. 

“I may be afflicted with a measure of misanthropy,” he said, “But can you really blame me?”

“Not with your life. I’m not as fond of most of humanity, either. Oh! I wanted to show you something. Help me in.”

Barbara needed no help from the couch to her chair under ordinary circumstances, but finally having someone who she wanted to pick her up like a bride in his arms was not an ordinary circumstance. He set her carefully in the chair and she rolled over to the grandfather clock.

Inside the hidden panel was her new batsuit.

“What did you tell Lucius?” He asked.

“That I liked the color orange.”

“And the design of the bat?”

“I don’t know, I think it’s quite urban and edgy don’t you?”

The suit was black and orange where her past suit had been purple and yellow. And the bat on the chest was the same improvised, painted bat that had once been upside-down in his own mark.

He smirked, “I think it’s perfect.”

After a while, groceries arrived and Jonathan started cooking. The apartment filled with the smell of garlic and herbs and she felt like she was in a fine restaurant. 

And then came a knock at the door.

There was no mistaking who could’ve sent a giant red box tied with a glittery black bow. Barbara pulled the tail of the bow gingerly.

It exploded in black confetti and balloons, including a custom one that said, “Welcome back, Jonny!”

Jonathan shook his head and laughed.

“Are you back?” Barbara asked.

“Well, if all goes well, I’ll be working on Batman’s case soon enough. That’s enough on my plate for now. Someday, I’ll likely want to return to my toxin, but I’m in no rush. Besides, I rather like shocking people. Stagg said I might even be capable of curing depression. Mad criminal cures psychiatric illness. That’s a headline that would make more than a few people spit their morning coffee.”

“So after you cure scar-tissue based paralysis, you’re looking to get into the antidepressant game?”

“It’s something new,” he shrugged, tossing a pile of shrimp into the pan, “I may well have reached the pinnacle of the toxin, anyway, and if I happened to discover it couldn’t be improved, I’d be bored to tears.”

“You surprise even me, Jonathan,” she smiled.

“I imagine we both will have more than a few surprises up our sleeves for the next few years. It takes time to fully know someone.”

“It does,” she agreed, “But I look forward to it.”

“So do I,” he turned to her and leaned down to kiss her, softly and slowly.

It made her heart flutter.

He parted from her reluctantly and returned to his cooking.

She had purchased a small folding table for their meals together. Jonathan was not the type to eat on a sofa. She found it made her appreciate the food more, that and the fact that it tasted just as it did that night aboard the airship.

“I miss the airship,” she said, “I wonder if we could afford one of those.”

“If this serum works on you, we’ll be able to afford anything in the world we could possibly want,” he said.

“Alright then,” she grinned, “I want an airship.”

“Then an airship you shall have.” He replied with a smile.

She had never gone to sleep in someone’s arms before. Every time she had gone to bed with someone in the past, they had both ended up needing to go back out and save the city. She cried softly at first, lying there with her face in the crook of his neck as he stroked her upper back. It was an intimacy she hadn’t felt since she had a mother.

He sang to her until she fell asleep, his eyes watchful in the night before he drifted off himself.


	8. May Day

Jim Gordon entered the hospital room with no small amount of unease. In his hands he held a simple glass vase from the gift shop, inside of which sat half a dozen bright orange roses. He set them on the windowsill along with a balloon bouquet from Dinah and Helena and a bouquet of something he didn’t recognize, but would later find out was called ‘creeping avens.’

The long-limbed man sitting at his daughter’s bedside was singing softly as he stroked Barbara’s hand. 

“She, uh,” Jim coughed, “She looks pretty out.”

The man turned to him, ceasing his song, and nodded, “Heavy painkillers. The process of converting scar tissue to healthy tissue is excruciating,” he patted his own knee, “This was a long night.”

Jim nodded. He didn’t know what to say for a long moment.

“You been here all night?”

Jonathan Crane nodded at the police commissioner.

“Wanna take a walk? Get some coffee? Maybe some breakfast?” Jim almost couldn’t believe he was asking it so casually.

“I could stand a walk, and some coffee,” the other man said, standing and groaning with a bit of stiffness.

He had slept in that chair, it was fairly obvious.

“How does it work?” Jim asked as he was filling his own cup of black coffee in the hospital cafeteria.

“Hm? Oh, you mean the serum. It dissolves the unhealthy tissue and stimulates the regrowth of viable tissue. It wasn’t difficult to make. There are so many borderline supernatural substances being discovered these days; all it took was a little bit of refinement to turn the infamous Lazarus into something that had safe medical applications.”

“And you. You did it for her,” Jim stepped aside to allow Jonathan to get his own coffee.

“Yes, well, it’s not my usual field of research,” Jonathan said, “But I knew I could do it, there was nothing stopping me but time and access to the proper components and facilities, which Northern State provided as part of my treatment. And she deserves it.”

“She does,” the mustached man said, taking a sip of his coffee. They both took theirs black and began to walk back from the cafeteria silently.

Halfway back, Jim stopped and turned to him.

“You really...you love her, don’t you?”

“Of course I love her,” Jonathan laughed, “How could anyone meet her and not?”

Jim cracked a smile, “I ask myself that a lot.”

“You raised a magnificent woman, Commissioner. It’s an honor to have her think me worthy of her time.”

“You should probably call me Jim,” the only slightly older man sighed as he held out his hand, “If you’re going to be my son-in-law.”

Jonathan shook it with no small amount of surprise in his features, “Very well, Jim.”

Back in Barbara’s room, the two men sat beside one another and contemplated their coffee.

“I can imagine,” Jonathan said, “That it was no small shock, finding out she wanted to marry me.”

Jim made a noise like a bear snorting, “I honestly thought I was going to have a heart attack. But then, I don’t know the you she does. I haven’t seen you since Halloween night. And I’m no psychiatrist; who am I to argue with an expert who says you’ve been cured? You certainly don’t look nor act like you did on Halloween right now. I couldn’t pick you out of a crowd if I tried.”

“Your daughter quoted a book at me on Halloween night, a line about letting go of the desire for vengeance. Once I realized that what I was doing was standing in the way of what I actually wanted, it was easy to return to a sense of normalcy. Of course, I say a sense. I still keep a pet raven and raise poisonous flowers, but, old habits, I suppose. I was always the dramatic type.”

“You have that in common,” Jim laughed, “She’s always appreciated making a splash.”

“I realize how awkward this all must be for you. How many misgivings you must still have. I hope to earn a place in your circle by proving myself to you.”

Jim was silent for the space of a few heartbeats. “I don’t have to understand it,” he said, “I just want my daughter in my life. And I don’t want her getting hurt.”

“We share that in common,” Jonathan placed his hand on Barbara’s knee.

After another shared silence, he went on, “Do you worry about her? Constantly? Doesn’t it just drive you mad, wondering at all hours if she’s alright?”

“It has her whole life,” said Jim with a relief that could come only from sharing a burden, “You were right. I blamed myself. Until you threw it in my face and I couldn’t keep living with it anymore,” he laughed a little, “In a way, Dr. Crane, you’re a very effective therapist, if an aggressive one.”

“Jonathan, please.”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan?” It was Barbara, stirring slightly.

“Shh, I’m here,” he said, “So is your father.”

“Dad?” Her eyes searched for him, and when they found him, she smiled.

“Hi, honey.”

“Mmm, I’m glad I’m not having to break up a fight,” she said, rolling her neck before arching her whole body in a stretch that she immediately stopped and froze.

She looked down.

Her hips had arched with her back. Her legs had stiffened with her arms. Her toes had pointed with her fingers.

She could feel the warmth of Jonathan’s hand on her knee.

“Oh, my god,” she said, beginning to laugh as tears began to fill her eyes, “Oh my god!”

“Try to stay calm, you’re probably still woozy from the medicine,” Jonathan said, but it was no use. She threw the covers off her legs and began to bounce her knees.

“Look, dad!” She grinned from ear to ear, “They work!”

“My god,” he said, “It’s like it never happened.”

“Not quite,” Jonathan said, “There will be months of physical therapy ahead, but she’s taken good care of herself. It will be a great deal of work, but she can handle it if anyone can.”

“I don’t know how I can thank you,” Jim said, tearing up.

“You can walk me down the aisle,” Barbara said brightly.

He nodded, then sighed, “Police Commissioner gives away daughter to convicted criminal,” he said, “Vicky Vale is going to love that headline.”

“Bottom-feeders,” said Jonathan, “We’ve gotten plenty of nagging phone calls already.”

“So have I,” said Jim, “It might help if we all made a statement together. Present a united front.”

“A united front? Dad, I’m extremely pleasantly surprised.”

“The man just healed your paraplegia like some kind of miracle-worker, Barbara, I’m willing to overlook a criminal career for that. As long as the criminal career is over.”

Jonathan held up his hand, “On my honor.”

“Then I see no reason not to confront this head on. As a unit. A...family.”

Barbara smiled.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do? With the serum, I mean?” Jim asked.

“Hm? Oh, I was thinking something like this, well, it really ought to be something available to all qualified production companies, shouldn’t it? It won’t be as lucrative as an exclusive deal, but we’ll still be comfortable. And it will be rewarding to see its widespread application.” Jonathan looked away, as if a little uncomfortable with his own altruistic impulses.

“That’s very good of you,” said Jim, “It will help a lot of people.”

“I have a lot of people to help if I’m going to even out my karmic scale.”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Barbara’s breakfast arrived.

“I should’ve grabbed something,” Jim said, his stomach rumbling, “Want anything? I’ll go grab it.”

Jonathan smiled, “I’ll take a banana, thank you.”

“No wonder you’re so thin, don’t you eat?”

“Dad!” Barbara laughed, then whispered, “I ask him the same question all the time.”

On his way back down to the cafeteria, Jim turned his thoughts inward. This was weird. There was no calling it anything else; it was flat-out weird. Seven months out from being held hostage by the man he was making plans to give his daughter away at her wedding...to their kidnapper. The press was going to have an absolute field day.

“Another day in Gotham,” he muttered to himself under his breath as he began to survey the breakfast options.

A banana sounded pretty good.


	9. Solstice

“I don’t like being clumsy,” said Barbara with a note of discouragement in her voice. 

“You won’t always be,” said Jonathan, holding out his hand, “Look at all the improvement you’ve made in just a few weeks.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she took his hand and dared to step up onto the stool again, pulling herself onto Dread’s back in front of her fiancé. 

This time, she was successful, and she grinned. 

People had been riding in Gotham Park since it had been built over 100 years ago. The stables were well-kept and a good place to board a horse if one had no access to a country house, or travel out of the city was inconvenient. 

And Dread, well, Dread was unspookable. Jonathan had carefully trained him to trust him no matter the circumstances, and the horse knew his rightful owner very well. The first time they had come to see him, he had whinnied with utmost excitement and demanded to have his nose stroked and be fed a handful of pumpkin seeds.

He and Jonathan had been an impressive sight streaking through the paddock in circles, sailing over every hurdle, like one organism, reading each other’s cues perfectly. Horse and rider both lived for the chase. 

They would need to take him out of town frequently to give him space to run. 

Truth be told, Barbara had been thinking about moving out of Gotham to the countryside. Interest had died down somewhat, and they could now go places most of the time without being accosted, but there was a reason famous people lived in gated enclaves in the hills; it’s the only place one can get away from attention. 

Barbara was much shorter than Jonathan, and felt very small on the back of the great horse, leaning against her lover’s chest.

“You know, I pictured this from the moment you told me you could ride,” she said, “I never thought it would be a reality.”

“I’d find ways to bend reality for you if I had to in order to make it so,” he kissed her cheek from behind, “On Halloween night, we’ll dance together for the first time as husband and wife.”

“Just like in my dreams,” she smiled, “You know, you’re wearing your Headless Horseman suit. I’ve already decided for you.”

He chuckled. “If you say so, darling.”

The horse increased his pace slightly with a silent cue from his master, and Barbara laughed a little. “It’s really quite magical, isn’t it? Amazing how humans figured out you could teach a horse to trust you.”

“Is it so amazing? You taught me to trust you.”

A few photos were taken of them in a more populated stretch of park, but they both were becoming accustomed to the flash of cameras, and Dread paid them absolutely no heed. In fact, he stopped for a moment to sniff at a clump of especially luscious shade grass before Jonathan urged him on.

“He’s always loved to eat, this one,” he laughed, “And I’m afraid he’s a bit of a ham for the camera.”

“You both are,” she elbowed him playfully, “I’ve noticed how you pose. How you’ve always posed. Scarecrow.”

“You’re guilty of it too,” he squeezed her waist, and she giggled as he whispered in her ear, “Batgirl.”

*

The statement released to the press by Commissioner Gordon was as follows:

I am thrilled to announce the engagement of my daughter Barbara Gordon to Dr. Jonathan Crane, the researcher who recently cured her paraplegia with the now-famous serum that is entering formal clinical trials. The couple will have a private ceremony on October 31st of this year, with no reception, but plan to make an appearance at the Wayne Foundation Halloween Party. 

When pressed, the Commissioner made no comment on Crane’s criminal past or rehabilitation, except to state that, like many individuals in Gotham, Dr. Crane has struggled with mental illness his whole life, and is currently doing well, though the particulars of his treatment and condition are federally protected by confidentiality legislation.

The speculation began to fly. This was, after all, the closest thing to a society wedding Gotham had experienced in some time, and it was perhaps made even juicier by the dramatic nature of the contrast between the two participants. The police commissioner’s daughter and a criminally insane doctor. 

What would the bride wear? What would the groom wear? How many people will be invited? What do you wear to a wedding on Halloween involving a super criminal? Will the guests receive little hits of fear toxin as favors? Will the ring bearer be a crow? These and more questions were asked by the press in the wake of the engagement announcement.

After much consideration, Barbara did deign to send a photo of the ring on her hand to the Social pages of the Times. The simpering author of the piece called it “tastefully Gothic and suitable for such an unorthodox union.”

*  
In the darkness of their tower, Barbara’s lover sang her his dark and melancholy songs. He played her his deliriums on his fiddle, and he read to her bits of macabre prose and poetry until she felt weak in his arms.

They had been waiting. Waiting until she felt ready. Comfortable with the parts of her so long dormant. He had let her learn herself again before he might learn her.

After an evening of wine and dark sentiments, they lay beside each other in bed, his mouth at her ear, whispering the words of Charles Baudelaire.

“As if with beasts’ eyes, angels led the way, I slip back to your bed…”

He climbed onto her, kissed her in such a way that her whole body arched to meet him, and laced his fingers with hers. Against her mouth, between kisses, he went on,

“...the chilling hiss of serpent coiled shall be my kiss.”

“Fuck, Jonathan, just take me,” she finally panted.

And he did. How the Scarecrow, most awkward and put upon of all the creatures of Gotham’s nights, knew how to drive her over the edge with the slightest of efforts was a thought she would forget and have to ask in the morning. Perhaps it was simply that doctors know anatomy. Perhaps it was that the months of passion that had built between them could’ve sustained through any virginal fumblings. Or perhaps it was just that a man who rides horses knows exactly what to do with his hips.

Whatever the case, she saw stars she had never seen before as he ran his long fingers over her lithe body, shivered deep in muscles she had long since forgotten as he whispered more words of wicked devotion across the flesh of her neck and breasts.

It was a new experience for him, making someone scream for reasons of pleasure. He quite liked it.

“How strange to possess your life and youth by fear rather than tenderness,” he whispered in the glistening silence after they were done.

“You give me plenty of tenderness,” she caressed his face.

“But I won you with fear. And I’ll make you the bride of fright.”

She pulled him close and kissed him deeply again, “Then what does that make you?”

“Wrapped around your finger, dear, dark girl.” He nestled her into the crook of his neck, stroking her back and beginning to sing to her again.

Their sweat-covered skin seemed to fuse in the darkness. 

“I love you,” he whispered when he had finished singing.

“I love you, too,” she sighed, nearly asleep.

In the morning, she woke him with a kiss, already starving for more.


	10. The Fourth of July

“I don’t like this,” said Tim with his arms crossed.

“Then why are you letting it happen?” Barbara asked.

“Because I got outvoted,” he said, “And I’m out of ideas.”

“Shh,” said Jonathan as politely as he could.

He was seated at the computer interface in Panessa Studios, his fingers flying across the keys as he made calculations.

Barbara, Dick, Jason, and Tim stood in a U around him. Bruce, whose episodes had become almost unmanageable, was laying in bed in the only occupied cell.

“Why are we letting Scarecrow poke his fingers all around our research into the Joker Sickness, again?” Tim muttered under his breath

“Because he’s a doctor and a chemistry genius and he wants to help,” Jason whispered back. Jason had been unable to deny that a bond existed between him and Jonathan, and they had actually started talking on their own.

“And what if he uses this to turn the entire city into laughing lunatics?”

“Not my shtick,” said Jonathan, his fingers never ceasing to move, “Besides, I’m retired.”

“Right,” said Tim at normal volume, “Retired.”

“Shh,” said Barbara, Dick, and Jason at once.

“Something isn’t adding up...you’re absolutely certain the disease has a Creutzfeld-Jakob pattern?”

“Of course I am,” said Tim with a scoff, “Bruce said so himself.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this,” Jonathan leaned back and looked over his shoulder, “But it doesn’t.”

“What?”

“It’s as plain as day,” Jonathan gestured to the readouts on the screen, “It’s not acting on prions or causing them to become misfolded.”

“What’s a prion?” Jason asked.

“It’s a protein in the brain,” Tim rolled his eyes, “And Bruce’s are all out of whack.”

“With all due respect, I am aware you are quite intelligent and well-educated for your age, but I am a doctor who has spent decades studying the human brain. This is not a variant of Creutzfeld-Jakob disease. It is not a disease in the classical sense. It is a psychological illness.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Jonathan removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I’m afraid it’s the most difficult kind of illness to cure.”

“What do you mean?” Barbara asked.

“It’s a psychosomatic one.”

“What?” Asked Dick.

“How is that possible?”

“The logs state no one began to show symptoms of Joker Sickness until they arrived at Panessa,” Jonathan explained, “No one began to show signs until they were told they were infected.”

“But that’s impossible!” Said Tim, “There’s no way Bruce would be weak enough to fall for a psychosomatic illness.”

“Mental illness is not weakness, Tim,” Jonathan turned his chair to face them, “I am afraid that what appears to have happened is that Batman was exposed to a large amount of my toxin on Halloween night. That toxin gave rise to his worst fear; that he is no better than the Joker. Since that night, he has been consumed by that fear. He can’t let go of it. And it’s allowing purely physical symptoms, the whitening skin and the changing hair, caused by exposure to Joker’s blood, to convince him that he is, in fact, becoming the Joker.”

They all looked to the man laying in the cell not far to the side. He laughed quietly to himself, but showed no signs of listening to them.

“So this is your fault,” Tim said.

“Technically, yes, it is my fault. Fortunately, I might also have a solution.”

“We’re listening,” said Dick.

Jonathan turned back to the computer and hit a few buttons, pulling up a molecule on the screen, “I can make this. It’s a version of the toxin tailored specifically to the corrupted DNA causing the physical changes to his appearance. Essentially,” he spoke a bit loudly, giving Barbara a sly look that she understood perfectly, “I think we have to bring the Joker’s worst fears to the surface. Weaken him. Then and only then will Batman be able to confront his own fears.”

Bruce stood and leaned against the glass of the cell, “That’s going to be tough, Jonny-boy. I’ve never been affected by your little drugs before.”

“No,” Jonathan stood and crossed over to him, “That’s true. But you’re no longer in a body with almost complete toxin immunity.” He looked at his nails, “You’re in Batman’s body, and Batman knows my terror all too well.”

They stared each other down for a moment.

“Since when do you slum it with the Batsie Kids, Jonny? This is beneath you.”

“On the contrary, Joker. Having the chance to show you up once and for all will be quite a feather in my cap.”

“Try me, strawsack,” Bruce’s hands turned to claws and dug at the glass, “Your little party drug isn’t going to do a thing.”

The voice that rose from Jonathan’s throat was one Barbara knew well from countless nights across the rooftops, and from Halloween night. It made her core contract, made her shiver, made her...fearful, in the most pleasant way.

“I’m afraid, clown, that your throne is broken. This city is no longer yours. The one who has the power to wreak the greatest havoc now is me, and I’m turning my sights to the one person I never could touch before. You,” he pointed through the glass, pressing his fingertip to it, “Are in a flesh prison that is entirely too susceptible to what I can do with a few plants and insects. And now I have your DNA, and, well,” a soft, deadly laugh, “I can make something very special just for you. Your own personal blend.”

Bruce scowled and skulked back to his cot, “Faugh!” He said, “I should have Harley slap you around with a bat.”

Jonathan was perfectly composed when he turned around. There was no hint of the Scarecrow that had come out a moment before. Tim was looking at Barbara skeptically.

“One last hurrah before I retire, then,” Jonathan gave a mild-mannered smile, “Driving the Joker out of existence...with fear.”

*  
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

Barbara said it to Jonathan as they were washing their faces in the bathroom that evening.

“Hm? What was?”

“What you said to Bruce today,” she shivered, “I don’t know, I forgot you could be like that.”

“Oh, I absolutely can be like that,” he turned to her and put his hands on her hips, “Why, would you like me to be more often?”

“In private, maybe,” she ran her hand down the lapel of his pajamas, “It was a little terrifying.”

“Don’t we always fear our deepest desires?” He smirked as he leaned in to kiss her.

When they returned to the sinks, she asked, “So you can tailor the toxin to DNA?”

“Yes,” he said, “It’s difficult, but I’ve done so before.”

“Could you make some for me?”

He coughed.

“You want me...to make you a toxin?”

“I do,” she nodded, “I want to feel it. I want to know what it’s like. I would feel safe, with you. It might even be…” she blushed and looked down, “Well, it could be fun, to...you know.”

He turned to her with a renewed smirk, “Oh, my dark little bat,” he kissed her forehead, “Yes, let me take you into the darkness. Let me show you what I can do. Let me show you real fear, safe in my arms...let the Scarecrow have his way with you.”

“I want it,” she whispered against his jaw, “I want that, so much. Let me love all of you, even this part.”

He enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly, “No one has ever loved all of me. Of course, no one has ever loved any of me, before you.”

“And I do love you,” she said, “So much.”

“And I you, my sweet girl,” he pressed the tip of his nose to hers, “Very well. Tomorrow I’ll begin on two formulations.”

“I can’t wait,” she grinned.

They lay in bed comforting Nightmare through the fireworks and watching them through the windows, then settled into their favorite sleeping position as usual and drifted off together.


	11. Lammas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can hardly believe I’m almost to the end of this. After all this time, to be writing again is amazing. I hope you all are enjoying. I’m really enjoying writing this. Please check out Pet Bat if you haven’t already, as well as Cabinet of Curiosities and the other Scoracle works on here by other authors. Also, if you like healthy kink and M/M, hop over into my Star Wars section.

Bruce Wayne made his first public appearance in months on the first of August, at a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a school. 

The cover story was that he had gone on some sort of personal enlightenment retreat in India. It was the sort of thing insufferable billionaires did. Everyone commented on how refreshed he looked. Ten years younger. 

That’s what having a weight like the Joker off of your shoulders will do. 

He was stubborn, for the last two weeks of July. But on that Lammas day, he invited Barbara and Jonathan to come have coffee with him at Wayne Manor after the ribbon-cutting. 

“I owe you...everything,” he said, “I can’t believe it, but I do. Barbara, if you hadn’t somehow convinced Tim to let him take a look...God only knows what I’d be right now. Jonathan...thank you.”

“If I can undo some of the harm I’ve done over the years, then I’m happy,” Jonathan said.

“You’ve earned yourself a place in my family, which is something I never thought I would say,” said Bruce, “If you’d like to be involved in other ways…”

Jonathan shook his head, “Not for now, at least. I’m enjoying being primarily retired. After fixing everything, I’m in no hurry to break it all again.”

Bruce laughed, “I can understand that. A few months off has done my body a world of good. But it’s good to be back. It’s good to be myself again.”

“We were so worried,” Barbara said, taking Bruce’s hand, “The more time passed, the worse it got. The more we began to lose hope.”

“When I had lucid moments, I was hopeless, too. I can’t believe that of all things, fear toxin proved to be the cure.”

“The Joker, gone once and for all,” said Jonathan, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Neither did I,” said Bruce, “It’s a good time for Gotham.”

They sipped their coffee for a few moments before Bruce continued,

“I’d like to at least offer you a position with Wayne Enterprises. We could use you in the chemistry division.”

Jonathan looked immensely satisfied, “I’ll absolutely consider that offer,” he said, “I become bored easily, and it would keep me occupied.”

“Not only that, but I appreciate having inside men.”

“Planning on assigning me top secret projects?” Jonathan smirked.

“Maybe,” Bruce winked. Then he turned to Barbara solemnly, “Will you still be our Oracle?”

“Of course, Bruce,” she smiled, “I could never not be. Although I might like to get back out there sometimes, once I’ve trained enough again.”

“You’d be a welcome addition, as always.”

“Except maybe to Tim.”

“Give him time. He’s young and he’s jealous. But love doesn’t always make sense,” he shrugged, “I miss Talia every day, even though it seemed like it could never work. And Selina, that never works out either. I’m happy for you two, that you can make it work. That Jonathan is willing to do the work, make the sacrifices necessary, for it to work.”

“Me too,” Barbara took Jonathan’s hand now.

“You sure you won’t have a bigger wedding? I’d be happy to fund your dream party.”

“I’m already having it,” Barbara squeezed Jonathan’s hand, “It’s going to be perfect. Just Dad and Dinah as witnesses. And besides, we’re coming to the party afterwords.”

“Any idea what you’re going to be?”

She nodded; she had known for over a year.

“Katrina Van Tassel,” she said.

*  
“What have you got behind your back?” Barbara asked after dinner.

Jonathan smirked, “Something very special.”

“Well, show me!”

He brought his hands in between them. 

She picked up the plastic-capped glass bottle and removed the cap to reveal a long, thin tip. “Nose spray?”

He gave her a bit of a look.

“Oh!” She said, realizing what it was, and then began to smirk herself, “Ohhh.”

“Exactly,” he rocked on the balls of his feet, “Want to try it out?”

“Maybe,” she bit her lip with a grin, “What are the side effects?”

“Very mild, but you’ll likely have a treatable headache in the morning, need lots of fluids, and probably some extra rest.”

“Well, we have nothing on the schedule. Seems like a good night for it.”

“That was my thinking.”

“And it’s all mine?”

He nodded, “It won’t work on anyone else but you. Anyone else will just think it’s some kind of bizarre herbal tincture.”

“Like something from a health food store,” she giggled.

“Exactly.”

“Well then,” she sat on the edge of the bed and examined the bottle, “How much?”

“I’d do one for now, and work up to more. I’ve made it so that it’s fairly gentle, but it will have a cumulative effect if you increase the dose.”

“One for now,” she repeated, “Bottom’s up.”

She leaned forward and sprayed herself up her left nostril.

“Oh, shit, that burns,” she said, blinking through the tingling sensation that followed, “I think I’m gonna sneeze.”

“Hazards of the dispersal system,” he said, “You’re not ready for intravenous yet.”

And then he waited.

“You’re right,” she said, “This really is mild, I don’t notice…” before she could say, “Anything,” it started.

Her eyes widened. Her pupils shrank. Her breathing began to quicken and she started to grip the blankets under her.

“Tell me what you see,” he said. It was almost an order. Quiet, like a whisper, a whisper of anticipation.

“You,” she said, looking up at him, “The real you.”

“The real me?” He asked, coming closer, “And what does the real me look like?”

She stood and closed the space between them, “Like the most beautiful nightmare I’ve ever had.”

She kissed him, even though his face dripped with larvae. Everything was heightened, her skin crawling with things that weren’t there, and something in it was an aphrodisiac to her.

God, but she was fucked up.

He ran his nails down her throat and squeezed her choke point, “How does it feel?” He asked, “Like you might die?” His voice was positively exultant; this was his element. This was as much of a thrill for him as it was for her.

“Like I could scream.”

“Then scream,” he said, voice shaking, almost pleading with her, “Scream for me, my sweet little bat, my helpless little victim, give me your fear.”

Her breathing began to quicken, the hallucinations began to intensify, his face continued to grow more and more like it had once been, and she did indeed scream.

“Oh, God, you’re like music, darling,” he purred before leaning in to swallow the last of her cry with his kiss.

She broke away from him and fell back onto the bed, crawling away.

“There’s an antidote,” he said, “Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” she gritted her teeth, “No, take me, rip me apart.”

“Oh, child, I’m going to destroy you.”

And he did. In the end she was screaming louder than she ever had, covered in scratch marks, including his mark across her back. Her skin was seized in goose flesh, and she collapsed beneath him and lost consciousness.

He rolled off of her and wiped the sweat from his brow. Then he gently tended to her scratches and tucked her into bed, filling her water carafe for the morning and leaving an apple with it in case she happened to wake up and need to ground herself.

She was so perfect. In absolutely every way, she was his match, just as intelligent, just as stubborn, just as twisted as he was.

He couldn’t wait to marry her.


	12. Autumn Equinox

“Ok, who wants iced tea? It’s pumpkin chai.” Barbara called to the group assembled at her new kitchen table.

“You guys and pumpkin,” Jason laughed, “It’s not even fall yet.”

“Actually, it’s the first day of fall,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him, “But if you just want water, I’ll get it for you.”

“I’ll try it,” he said, “I don’t mind tea.”

Bruce, Jason, and Dick were all gathered at the table with Jonathan. All morning they had been working on moving Barbara and Jonathan’s belongings from the clock tower to the Victorian-era house the couple had bought together in the last month.

They hadn’t intended to move to the countryside so soon, but it was painted in shades of orange and brown like perpetual autumn, it had a two-horse stable on the property, and the cellar was large enough to hold her servers and the shed large enough for Jonathan to create a space of his own for chemical tinkering.

It was absolutely perfect.

Inside was gorgeous, with well cared-for wood and plain white walls just waiting to be painted in jewel tones. The turret had stained glass windows, and off of the back was a small solarium where Jonathan could grow his plants and they could create an enclosure for Nightmare.

Barbara poured five glasses of the tea and carried them over on a tray, setting one down in front of each of them, grabbing her own, and taking a place on the nearby bench in the bay window.

“How much is left?” She asked.

“Just the books,” said Dick, “You guys sure have a lot of books.”

“That’s what happens when a librarian gets engaged to a book hoarder,” Jonathan said, “You really don’t have to help me with them, I know they take up half of the truck.”

Bruce laughed, “If I could manage to carry everything needed to create a batcave I can carry a few boxes of books.”

“We’re really grateful to you three,” said Barbara, “It goes a lot faster when you have three ridiculously buff helpers.”

“Need a fourth?” Asked a familiar voice.

Barbara whipped around. Tim was standing in one of the kitchen doorways.

“Door was open,” he said apologetically.

Instinctively, the four men at the table got up and made themselves scarce. 

“Hi, Barb.”

“Hi, Tim.”

Silence passed between them for a moment.

“It’s gonna be weird,” he said, “Not going to the clock tower.”

“I’m still going to own it, keep it as a base in the city for the Birds,” she said, “But, yeah. It’ll be strange, living out here. It’s so quiet, even during the day.”

“Barb, I’m sorry. I was so jealous, and then I was so worried, and I really don’t have any excuses for why I was such a prick. I just want you to be happy. If that means you’re happy with him, that’s what it means.”

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. “You’ll always be special to me, Tim.”

“Same, Barb.”

They held on for a long moment before they stepped away.

“There’s just books left,” she said, “But there’s a lot. We should go help.”

“Yeah,” he said, “Can I...can I talk to him for a minute?”

Barbara nodded.

She went to the library, where Jonathan was setting down a pair of boxes, “Honey? Tim asked for a word.”

He straightened up, “Of course.”

She left the two of them alone.

“You get why we’re all skeptical, I guess,” Tim said after a moment of silence.

“Of course,” he said, “I’ve never exactly had the most sympathetic motives; I’m no Victor Fries. And no super criminal of Gotham has ever reformed before. But you know her. You know she’s worth that kind of change.”

Tim nodded, “Yes. Yes, she really is.”

Another moment passed before Tim said again, “So you’ll treat her well, yeah?”

“I have every intention of continuing to treat her like the missing piece of my soul,” Jonathan said, “And yes, I am well aware of all I will have to face should I fail. A bat, three Robins, the Birds of Prey, an exemplary cop, and a combat-trained butler.”

Tim laughed a little. “That should be enough to keep you in line.”

“I think it could keep anyone in line.”

Tim offered his hand, “Well, here’s to the line.”

Jonathan took it, and they shook hands, “The line.”

As the sun set, Barbara and Jonathan sat together on their porch with more pumpkin chai, hot this time.

“I forgot how exhausting moving is,” she said, “And last time I moved I didn’t have to set up an entire server room.”

“You think I would be used to it, as often as I had to move around to avoid detection, but,” he cracked his neck in both directions, “I’m tired, too.”

“Bruce and Tim got the bed put together,” she said, “It looks perfect in the room. I like the curtains around it. Very Victorian. Very dramatic.”

He grinned, “I do love a little drama here and there, and I have to get my fill somehow now.”

“I don’t...I don’t mind, you know,” she said, “If you ever want to go back to your research. I meant what I said. I’ll cover your tracks. No one could catch you.”

“I will, someday,” he said, “Most likely. I can’t completely kill that drive in me. But believe it or not, I actually got a few things out of all that therapy, and it’s not a compulsion, not now.”

She leaned against his shoulder, “Good,” she said, “I don’t want anything to distract from what we have.”

“Neither do I,” his arm wrapped around her.

Nightmare landed on the left finial at the bottom of the staircase and let out a long, rasping call. Suddenly, a second raven landed on the right finial.

Jonathan looked surprised, “Well look at that,” he said, “Looks like she’s found a companion.”

“Maybe she can domesticate him,” she laced her fingers with his.

“I will never underestimate the ability of love to domesticate again, I know that much.”

She kissed him softly, “You’re not domesticated,” she whispered, “Just in control.”

“I like that,” he said, kissing her again, “Should we go upstairs?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” she laughed as she stood, “My back is killing me.”

“A nap before dinner, then,” he said, “I bought things to make scampi.”

“I like that idea,” she said as they reached the bottom of the stairs, “Scarecrow.”


	13. Halloween

In the golden hour of the afternoon, among the turning trees of their property, both dressed in black, Barbara and Jonathan said their vows. A raven sat on each of their shoulders.

Aside from the officiant, only Barbara’s father and Dinah were present. The bride held a bouquet of amaranth and fiddlehead ferns. 

The groom read Bryon to the bride, and the bride read Neruda to the groom. Their vows were simple and handwritten, and they sealed it with the exchange of engraved bands and a shared sip of wine.

Afterward the group ate spice cake and drank apple cider on the back porch of the new house.

Jonathan didn’t have to change for the party, but Barbara did, from her simple black dress into an elaborate, 18th century gown she had ordered for the occasion. Dinah helped her with her hair.

Bruce sent a car for them.

The first time someone called Barbara “Mrs. Crane” aside from her husband, it was a photographer outside the door of the hotel, desperate for a head-on shot she didn’t give them.

Everyone wanted to meet Jonathan. It was his first public function since the serum had been sent to trials and his first anything as the Police Commissioner’s son-in-law.

He smiled and shook hands and performed the part well.

Bruce was at a podium giving some sort of requisite speech when Jonathan slipped into the background behind a potted plant. Barbara followed him.

“It’s all a bit much, isn’t it?”

“A little,” Jonathan said, “To think, I could crash an event like this without a second thought, guns blazing, but I can hardly stand to participate in it.”

“It isn’t so bad, is it?” She asked, taking his arm, “After all, I’m here.”

He placed his hand over hers, “Yes, you’re here. But oh, there’s so many people to talk to, and you just end up saying the same thing so many times. Those aren’t the kind of conversations I like to have.”

“I know, dear,” she nuzzled him, “We don’t have to stay more than another hour or so, but I want to dance with you.”

“Yes, I’ve been waiting all day for that,” he said, “Katrina.”

She laughed and gently brushed her fingertip across the line of makeup he had applied around his throat to indicate a severed head, barely set on, “So have I, my headless horror. In fact, I’ve been waiting for this since well before this time last year.”

He snickered, “I never in a hundred years would’ve dreamed it would end like this. With you and I, together, here.”

“This isn’t an end,” she said as she moved to lead him out of the shadows, “This is a beginning.”

Bruce’s speech finished, and the orchestra began to play again. She broke away from her partner long enough to go and request a song.

“Did you ever learn to waltz?” Jonathan asked her as she returned and the music began.

“As a matter of fact, I’ve been taking lessons.” She smirked.

“Oh, have you, Miss Two Mandatory Girls’ Nights a Week?”

“That’s Mrs. Mandatory,” she said as he took her hand.

He was somehow as practiced as she was, and even though she was well-learned by now, he was still somewhat fast for her.

“Ok, who taught you to dance?”

“Oh, I went to terribly moldy old etiquette classes in junior high,” he said, “De Rigeur for a small southern town in my day. Why do you think I eat the way I do? Left to my own devices, I wouldn’t have the slightest care which fork to use first.”

She laughed brilliantly as a camera flashed.

“I suppose I should’ve asked for a minuet,” she said, “But then no one else would’ve been dancing with us.”

“Oh dear. Us all alone on the floor while they look on in confusion. Of course, they’re confused anyway.”

“Probably always will be. No one understands what I see in you.”

“No one understands why I’d give up what I have for you.”

“They don’t need to understand,” she squeezed his hand, “All that matters is that we do.”

“I admit, I didn’t understand it at first,” he said, “This pull to you, this inexorable longing, but I do now.”

“Oh? And what, dear expert in human feeling, is it?”

“The love of Dante for Beatrice,” he said, “If Dante dragged Beatrice into Hell.”

“You haven’t dragged me into Hell,” she rolled her eyes, “But I get what you mean.”

As the music ended, they kissed, and the camera flashed again.

That night, in bed, all the costumes and makeup and hair set aside and all the cares of the world locked outside their sanctuary, the two fell asleep in each other’s arms, reminiscing about late night messages and a dinner on an airship.

The photo taken as they kissed would adorn the front of the society section of the Times the following morning, along with big black letters that declared,

SCARECROW MARRIED.

Yesterday, Saturday, October 31st, marked not just the Wayne Foundation’s annual Halloween Ball, but also the wedding many have been anticipating in spite of its closed nature. Commissioner Gordon was on record stating that his daughter, Barbara, had indeed married Dr. Jonathan Crane that afternoon in a private ceremony, as the announcement earlier this year had promised. This pairing has been the talk of Gotham since it was publicly revealed, an unlikely romance that while some say will end inevitably in disaster, others say represents everything that Gotham citizens love about our unique city.

The newly minted Dr. and Mrs. Crane were seen last night at the festivities, and a great deal of the mingling centered around talks of Dr. Crane’s serum for converting scar tissue, which restored Mrs. Crane’s ability to walk several months prior. Bruce Wayne was seen congratulating the couple, and even shared a dance with Mrs. Crane, though not before her husband had the chance.

Requesting a waltz, the two looked stunning in elaborate costume as the Headless Horseman and Katrina Van Tassel in a dark retelling of a classic American tale. In fact, a dark retelling of a classic American tale might just be the best way to describe the romance between the young lady and her older paramour, and the pair certainly don’t seem to shy away from the Doctor’s associations with the macabre.

See our photo spread on the following pages for more of the exquisite costumes and exciting antics from last night, including an appearance by Selena Kyle and a failed interruption by Calendar Man that put Red Hood, the mysterious new hero of Gotham, front and center.


	14. Epilogue - All Soul’s Day

If you want to find Batgirl and the Scarecrow this morning, you might be hard-pressed to do so.

They’re off riding horses through the forest on their land, enjoying their first full day together as a married couple.

The honeymoon is scheduled for next week. They plan to travel to Georgia so that Jonathan can show her where he grew up, and they can consider the possibility of a restoration project and, finally, a sale, of the great mansion that holds so many terrible memories for the man.

Autumn in Savannah is a good time to visit.

Over their heads as they ride circle Nightmare and Fugue, the paired ravens they now call their own. Suspicion is that, during nesting season, the pair will lay eggs and have a few little ravens. It’s not an activity the human couple plans to duplicate.

There has also been a lone crow hanging around that they have managed to keep the ravens from harassing, that they have named Craw.

After they ride across the frost-covered fields, they’ll return home for breakfast, cooked by Jonathan as usual, with inexpert help from Barbara. She’s learning to cook quite well, honestly.

Then Barbara will retreat to the cellar, where her servers are, and help the crime-fighters of Gotham obtain the evidence they need.

Jonathan will go to his shed and tinker with his chemistry set. He’s planning on making an improved perfume for Barbara as a Christmas gift.

They’ll come together for lunch before spending the afternoon reading together in the library, then have a quiet dinner on the back porch and contemplate how long they plan to leave the Halloween decorations up. Some of them will likely become year-round fixtures.

At night, they’ll lie in one another’s arms, each finally in possession of the thing they’ve longed for most in life.

For Jonathan, a sense of safety with another human being.

For Barbara, a sense of being able to be fully herself for the first time.

Mr. and Mrs. Crane have determined to lead a rather quiet life, for now.

For the two of them, it’s more than just a marriage. It’s the beginning of a lifelong, glorious, Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe I’ve finished it after all this time. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented. I have plans to return to these two in the future, possibly for some historical AUs. Right now I’m in a gay Star Wars dumpster so if you like explicit but fluffy kink, hop on over there and see what I’ve been doing. Much love and spookiness this autumn!


End file.
